Hymn to the Sea
by Charlie'sLostVampire
Summary: Steve Rogers found himself caught in a New York downpour, and decided to take refuge in the first club he stumbled upon. Who he meets there leaves him at a loss for words...


It's a funny thing, death. Of course, it's not funny in a literal sense – it's quite sad, in most cases – but… it's funny as in… it's _odd_. No one knows where we go after Death's cold clutches grasp us. It's all one big, unsolvable mystery. It doesn't matter who you are or what you've done with your time among the living – there's no telling what the next chapter holds.

Steve Rogers always thought it would be the pearly gates and a final judgement.

Everyone has their own idea of what heaven looks like; for some it's puffy clouds and angel wings, and for others it's a great castle. Steve… Well, Steve just hoped they would let him in. Everywhere he turned, people spent most of his unnaturally long life telling him that he was a good man – but would that be enough? He often felt that he didn't deserve heaven, for he caused so many people so much pain, even if it was done indirectly. Dr. Erskine, Bucky, Tony – just a few of the people who he had failed or disappointed.

It didn't matter that he prayed each night, or how horribly guilty he felt for the pain his actions had inflicted on those he cared about the most. Steve Rogers still believed, deep in his heart, that he didn't deserve to go to heaven, whatever it really was.

Today was one of those days where it seemed to be weighing on him more heavily than usual. Walking down the streets of New York in the rain, his hair dripping, water droplets rolling down the brown leather of his jacket, Steve couldn't get the afterlife off of his mind. If heaven wasn't in store for him, what was? He might not have thought he deserved to live in eternal peace, but he didn't think he deserved eternal suffering, either. He wasn't a horrible person – even with his past mistakes, Steve could still acknowledge that much. Most of what he had done wrong had been done for the greater good.

At some point, the rain turned to a full on downpour, and he quickly retreated into the nearest public area to avoid getting soaked to the bone. To his surprise, the place was bright, bustling, and full of life – and, of course, that shouldn't be all too surprising for a club in New York City. But the streets had been strangely quiet today. Steve had initially blamed it on the rain, spoiling sight-seeing for the tourists that always seemed to crowd the streets, but now it seemed… _strange_. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen a single person on his walk. No dog-walkers, no taxi-drivers, no businessmen, businesswomen or lawyer – not a single soul had crossed paths with Steve Rogers on that cold, rainy morning stroll.

Shrugging off his wet jacket, he hung it up on a nearby coat rack, brow furrowed as he tried to work out why everything seemed so off today. No people, no cars – in fact, he wasn't even sure where he had been going to begin with. Stark Tower, maybe? Or had he just decided to go for a walk to clear his head and gotten sidetracked by his own thoughts? It was a possibility. It wouldn't be the first time he went for a run and the entire day was gone in the blink of an eye.

But the longer he stayed here and the deeper he walked into the crowded club, the more confused Steve began to get. All of the people here, talking and laughing and drinking and dancing, looked… _familiar_. Not familiar in the way that a person would look if you saw each other in the street a few times, but… _really_ familiar. They all looked familiar, and they were all dressed like a blast from his past. Girls were being twirled about by men, some in uniform, some in suits, some in button downs with loose ties, and skirts were flaring about as they all whirled around him. At the bar were women nursing martinis in high-waisted skirts and blouses, large rimmed glasses perched on their noses, and there was a man on stage across the room singing to a fast-paced dance number, dressed to the nines with a fedora perched on his head.

Had he wandered into some sort of costume party? No one dressed like that anymore – hell, no one _danced_ like that anymore. While swing had been all the rage when he went under, it was all but dead when he woke up. It was a trend he barely even got to enjoy, for it was gone in literally the blink of an eye, along with so many other things.

If this was a themed party, Steve had to commend the party-goers on their accuracy. It felt just like he had stepped back into the 1940s, and the slightest of smiles pulled at his lips. The future was never really the same. It wasn't home. He spent all of his time constantly playing catch up, but, no matter how many movies he watched or albums he listened to, Steve still felt like an outsider.

Of all the places he could have wandered into to get shelter from the rain, he decided that this really wasn't so bad. It was nice to indulge in nostalgia now and again…

That had been the thought running through his mind when his gaze caught a glimpse of red fabric, snapping back to its origin as quickly as he had skimmed over it. He had to be seeing things; all of these people dressed like his old friends were the root of such wishful thinking. There was no way that was really…

But then the woman in the red dress turned around, curls shifting with the movement, and Steve felt his breath catch in his throat. The resemblance was striking – in fact, this woman was practically a clone of the woman he had spent most of his life longing for. She was a perfect match to the one that got away. But it couldn't be. There was no possible way that was her, standing there like an angel in red, just like she had been all those years ago.

Then their eyes met, and the woman's ruby lips pulled upward into a smile as she set off toward him with such determination, such purpose, that Steve felt it was a miracle he was still standing upright. That was no clone – that really was her. No one else smiled like that. No one else walked like that.

No one had ever been capable of taking Steve Rogers' breath away in the span of an instant, even after he was no longer an asthmatic, but Peggy Carter.

Still smiling, but her expression a tad more controlled than it had been when she first settled those big brown eyes on him, the woman in red crossed her arms over her chest, peering up at Steve.

"You're late," was all that she said, and he felt the remaining air in his lungs leave him the second she spoke. That _accent_ – it was the very one that had haunted his dreams for so long. Was that what this was? A shockingly vivid dream? One of those dreams where you know that you're dreaming, because it's all just too impossible to be real? That had to be the case here, because there was no logical way for Peggy Carter to be standing in front of him, looking as radiant and vibrant and _alive_ as she had the day he first laid eyes on her.

Peggy Carter was dead. She'd been dead for a long time.

He opened his mouth to say something, because even if it was a dream, he wanted to make the most of it. In later years, he had begun to dream of Peggy less and less. She seemed to be slipping away from him more with each passing day – first how her kiss had felt, then her voice, until, finally, even her face began to escape him. He would stare at that compass whenever he was alone, trying to cling to the memories, but they had grown so terribly hard to draw up.

"Peggy," he whispered after a long moment, drinking her in; the way her eyes glittered; how her hair fell upon her shoulders; the milky white shade of her skin contrasting against the bright red of her lips. She looked so _real_. So real, and so beautiful…

Her smile grew softer at the way he whispered her name, morphing into that look that had always been solely reserved for him. It was the way she had looked at him when he knocked down that flagpole, and in the taxicab, and after that last kiss they shared. It was Peggy Carter's special Steve smile, and she took a step closer to him while it graced her lips.

"Hello, my darling…"

Peggy's tone was soft, and her touch matched the sound when she reached up a hand to cup his cheek, fingertips brushing fondly against his skin.

"I was beginning to think you were never going to arrive."

Her words were difficult to process; Steve was too preoccupied with reveling in the way her fingers felt against his cheek – gentle and grounding both at once, just like Peggy always had been. She felt _so_ real – his dreams had never felt like this before. They were always just fleeting visions, her voice floating through his head while he slept. But right now, he could _feel_ her fingers against his skin, and without thinking twice about the action he tugged her into his arms, burying his nose in her hair, breathing her in while he still could. He was terrified that, once he let her go, she really would be gone to him forever. If this was his last chance to truly dream of Peggy Carter, he wasn't going to waste a single second.

"I know that I'm dreaming…" he whispered into her hair, holding her tighter, "But you feel so real…"

Peggy let Steve get his fill of holding onto her, and only when he loosened his arms enough for her to move did she draw back to look up at him, her smile still as soft as before.

"This isn't a dream, Steve," she chose to say, her fingers gently brushing through his hair, which Steve only now noticed was completely dry when it had been dripping wet only moments ago.

"It is a dream," he disagreed, still keeping his arms around her, his expression melting into one of familiar sadness. "None of this is real. It _can't_ be real. Peg, you're... gone."

Peggy's expression was one Steve couldn't quite decipher; sadness in her eyes, and yet happiness behind her smile. It was bizarre. Why would she be feeling those two things at once, even in a dream?

"I know I am, darling," she agreed, tears shimmering in her eyes. "And now, so are you."

Her words made no sense. He wasn't gone; he was right here, whether it was a dream or not – and why was she crying? Winding one arm all the way around her waist, Steve brought one hand up to her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb as he frowned.

Clearly sensing his confusion, Peggy drew in a quiet breath, her smile still watery as she looked up at him.

"I'm happy you're here, my darling. I've waited so long for you to come, to join us, but… Well, you being here, it means that you're…"

And suddenly, it all made sense. The familiar faces all looked familiar because they _were_ familiar; they were the faces of people he knew back in Brooklyn before and during the war, and the faces of friends he made in battle. This wasn't a costume party, and he didn't wander in here on his way to Stark Tower; this place had been where he was headed all along, whether he knew it or not – and Peggy felt real because she _was_ real. Whether she was an angel, or something else, she was here, in his arms, happy that he finally came to join her, but crying because his being here meant that he was – "Dead. I'm… dead?"

Nodding, Peggy rested a hand on Steve's chest, stepping closer to him when his arm tightened around her waist.

"Yes, my love. We all are. This is where all of us wound up. It's a happy place, I suppose… A personalized version of heaven, in a sense. Total youth restored."

Peggy's laughter was still a bit tearful, her fingers resting on his chest and at the nape of his neck while Steve struggled to catch up with this information, glancing around the club again before letting his eyes fall back on her face.

"But how…? I don't remember dying."

"No one ever does," Peggy explained, shrugging, offering him a small smile. "I suppose that it's better that way. I can't imagine death is ever pleasant for anyone. No one remembers how they got here; eventually, we all just… _do_."

Dead. After over a century, it finally happened, and he's not even sure how. During a fight with an enemy alien race? Murdered by Hydra agents? Or did old age just finally catch up with him? He was dwelling on all of the possibilities when Peggy pulled him back to the here and now, stepping back out of his arms and offering him her hand.

"There's no sense dwelling on the how and why, Steve," she urged him softly, letting her smile finally reach her eyes. "All that matters is that you're finally here…"

It took a few moments to let everything sink in, but he slowly realized that she was right. However he had died, there was nothing more to be done. That part of his life was over – and something incredibly beautiful was standing right before him, holding out her hand, inviting him to accept this new chapter. So this was what heaven looked like; a club, filled with laughter and happiness and old friends, and Peggy Carter in a pretty dress. It was no pearly gates – it was _so much_ better.

He almost wanted to laugh at how close to accuracy the vision Wanda had given him was. Only the chaos of that party was matched at this one with a peaceful glow, and everyone was _truly_ happy. The war really was over – Steve Rogers was finally home.

Letting himself smile, Steve placed his hand in Peggy's, giving it a squeeze as he looked down at her.

"You still owe me a dance, Agent Carter…" he crooned, and her eyes seemed to sparkle at his words, laughter bubbling from her lips when he twirled her into his arms, her back pressing against his chest.

"I suppose I do," she agreed, looking up at him as he hovered close to her. "But first, I think there's something else that's long overdue…"

Steve was perplexed, about to ask her to elaborate when suddenly those pretty red lips where upon his, and Peggy Carter was in his arms, snug against his chest, kissing him, after _so_ long. This kiss was different from the last kiss they shared; that one had been all too brief and full of promises they never got the chance to make good on, and this one… this kiss was slow, lingering, full of the love that had always burned between the two of them. Steve really had a chance to appreciate how Peggy Carter felt so close to him, how her lips tasted, and that alone was a perfect definition of "heavenly". When she finally drew back from the kiss, he looked completely gob-smacked, and Peggy couldn't help but laugh and press another quick, tender kiss to Steve's lips, her gaze flitting in another direction when an enthusiastic cry sounded from over by the bar.

"ROGERS!"

A second later, they were both being mauled by Howard Stark, his expression one of total elation.

"I knew you'd end up here eventually! I gotta say, I'm still surprised Peg wound up here first, what with your crazy need to always put your life on the line, but I knew it. I knew this would be where you wound up. Maria! I said he'd come, didn't I?"

Peering down at Peggy, utterly baffled, Steve opened his mouth to question Howard's antics but Peggy beat him to the punch.

"Maria is Howard's _wife_ ," she explained, laughing again when that stunned look returned so quickly at the thought of Howard Stark, _married_. But sure enough, a beautiful woman with long blonde hair walked over a moment later, appraising Steve with a grin.

"Captain Rogers. I expected you to be… bigger, with the way Howard has always spoken of you."

"Oh, hush up," Howard quickly cut in, his face turning a shade of red that had nothing to do with alcohol consumption, but his grin never wavered. "I couldn't believe you weren't already here when the two of us figured out what this place is. We were all so sure you died back in that plane wreck. Then Peg finally got here, and told us about how you survived… and it's really just been a waiting game ever since. You know this girl has refused to dance with every guy here since she showed up?"

Jabbing a finger in Peggy's direction, Howard gave his head a shake. "She was saving a dance for someone special is all she'd ever say. She wouldn't even let _me_ throw her around, for old time's sake," he complained, which earned him an eyeroll from Peggy.

"You have your _wife_ to throw around, and to shimmy and shake with, and to twist and shout, and to-"

"Yeah, yeah – but Peg, Maria's got two left feet! She always has!"

"I do not!" the woman objected, huffing at his accusation, and Howard gave his own eyes a roll.

"You dance about as well as an antelope with only two legs," he disagreed, which earned him a swift stomp on the foot, leaving him cursing while Maria stalked back off to the bar. But Peggy merely smirked at the display, having grown used to their squabbles here by now, and long ago when they were all still alive and well.

"You're stuck with her forever here, Howard. There's no sense offending her."

"Who's offending anybody? All I did was tell the woman the truth! She can't dance, and she can't bake an apple pie to save her life, and-"

"She seems like the perfect fit for you, Stark," Steve threw into the conversation, barely having gotten a word in edgewise since Howard started talking, and at his statement Stark grinned, giving a shrug of his shoulders.

"Never met anyone better," he stated, but it wasn't crass or regretful; it was sincere. No one ever quite measured up to Maria in his eyes. Waggling a finger in Steve and Peggy's direction, he tossed them both a smirk. "I really did always know you two crazy kids would wind up together here, from the second Peg showed up and gave us the news. It was only a matter of time."

Rubbing his hands together, Howard whistled to get the band's attention – a habit he'd fallen into ages ago, whenever he would attempt to redeem himself in Maria's eyes with a dance - even if she did have two left feet.

"Hey maestro! Play us something slow for Agent Carter and her beau, will you? It's about time somebody got this lady to dance."

Winking at the pair of them, he pulled them both into a tight embrace before venturing back over to the bar to reconcile with Maria for the thousandth time since they arrived here years upon years ago.

Turning in his arms to face him, Peggy grinned when the band complied and a slower song filled the club, resting one hand on his shoulder while the fingers of her other hand laced with his.

 _We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your –_

He had been about to finish his thought when the plane hit the ice, the radio going dead, all communications with the bridge lost. All Steve could remember about that moment was clutching his compass for dear life as he sank, frigid water creeping along his body, leaving him shivering to the bone. Next, he'd lost the ability to breathe – whether it was because he was drowning or because he was so cold that his body was shutting down, he still doesn't know. But it was horribly unpleasant, and he knew in that moment that he would not be making it to the Stork Club.

After all they had been through, in each of their lives, it only seemed fitting that they end up here. The moment that would have let them truly start their lives together back then, was exactly how they were starting this new chapter together now. His arm wrapping around her waist, Steve drew Peggy in closer before they started to move, taking it slow. He'd never admit it aloud, but he still didn't really know how to dance. At least, he didn't know how to dance _well_. That seemed to be a fact Peggy picked up on, for she opted to lead them through a simpler version of the steps that the other couples were attempting.

Steve considered it a success when he only stepped on her toes three times, and each time had only merited soft laughter from her so, really, where was he at fault?

A few songs later they were swaying close together with Peggy's head on Steve's chest, his cheek pressing to her hairline, when she finally spoke again.

"I'm so glad you're finally here, my darling…" she whispered, tilting her head up to look at him, tightening her grip on his fingers. "I was beginning to think you were _never_ going to show up… That maybe your eternal happiness lay somewhere else-"

"Never."

He spoke the word with a fierce certainty, pausing their swaying to gaze down at her, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. "It's always been you, Peg…"

Leaning down, their lips a breath apart, Steve whispered, "It wouldn't be heaven without my best girl."

Her smile incredibly bright, Peggy leaned up and closed the distance between the two of them, her lips pressing to his with giddy happiness, love, elation – all of the things one would feel once the love of their life finally returned to them.

They may have missed their chance before, but they had all of eternity to make up for it now.


End file.
